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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719843">Gather Up the Broken Pieces</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoodblue/pseuds/bluemoodblue'>bluemoodblue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath &amp; Recovery, Multi, New Relationship, Recovery, but not explicitly or in detail, noncon/dubcon implied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:07:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemoodblue/pseuds/bluemoodblue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The look on his best friend's face was enough to fill Simon with immediate regret; another mistake, and wasn't that always just the way with him? Patrick looked at him like his heart was breaking, and Simon would have done anything to wipe away that pain. "You know what I'm talking about. That comment you just made, about how nice it is to choose this. What did you mean by that?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dianda Lorden/Patrick Lorden/Simon Torquill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gather Up the Broken Pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From a prompt on tumblr: someone (preferably Dianda and Patrick but I'm open to it being someone else who loves him) finding out that Simon was ordered to sleep with Oleander and gently sitting him down to explain that that in fact constitutes rape</p>
<p>Please note! I did not use the archive warning because the content is not explicit - it is implied in the context of mind control and suggestion, however, so please take care if that is a sensitive subject for you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were times in Simon's life when he was certain he'd already made all of the mistakes he was destined to make. Surely, <em>surely</em> there was some sort of limit - surely someday, he would gain wisdom hard-earned by the foolishness of his youth, and see problems as they approached with time to think through his choices. He had to have met his life's quota for trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there were times when Simon felt that, perhaps, foolishness was just a part of his nature; impossible to root out without leaving him irrevocably changed, and perhaps not even possible then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Say that again." Patrick was close but not as close as he'd been a moment ago, when he'd been kissing him in a way that Simon had forgotten it was possible to be kissed: with love and promise and comfort. He would very much have preferred to return to that, to the comfortable reality of a few minutes ago before he ruined everything <em>again</em> by saying something unfortunate, but the look on Patrick's face did not hold much promise of that. "Simon. Say that again."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick was holding his chin, gently but firmly, so Simon only had the impression of movement to tell him that Dianda had gotten up to start pacing. It was unusual for her to pace - not a good sign. "I say a lot of things. What do you want me to repeat?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on his best friend's face was enough to fill Simon with immediate regret; another mistake, and wasn't that always just the way with him? Patrick looked at him like his heart was breaking, and Simon would have done anything to wipe away that pain. "You know what I'm talking about. That comment you just made, about how nice it is to <em>choose</em> this. What did you mean by that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon had made this mistake before. He hadn't been free for very long, yet; the experience was still novel enough that sometimes his tongue slipped and revealed too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth was Simon wasn't sure how much of his life was his, in the years he spent in his lady's - in Eira's - uncaring grasp. When her influence finally overtook him completely, he couldn't have said what was suggestion and what was his own thought; the ideas his Firstborn presented to him seemed enticingly obvious, as if he would have thought of them himself given a little more time. In the aftermath, he could  barely pick apart where she ended and he began, but with a clear mind he could remember the feeling of control, a pressure in his head that forced out all else. It had been terrifying to realize that the pressure had been there, lingering and pushing, for years of his life; it was worse to understand that he only knew it had been there now that it was gone. In his worst moments, he could almost still feel it, less painful than a headache and more invasive than smoke under the door. In his worst moments, he locked himself away from the rest of the court and hoped he would not be turned into a weapon against his family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it better to have his husband and wife think he'd done monstrous things that he atoned for, or admit that he wasn't always sure which of his actions were his? Simon didn't know, and so he accepted responsibility for all of it - no one would say that he was making excuses for himself. After all, he was the one who'd approached Eira for help. He'd known what would happen when his supply of potion ran out, and he carried on recklessly ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, like the fool he was, he reveled a little too easily in his freedom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon noticed the looks he'd been getting from Patrick and Dianda. He thought he'd been making lighthearted jabs at the history they were all aware of. He thought he'd been telling his spouses, indirectly, that it was okay to talk about it, that he was okay. But they kept looking at him in horror, and eventually his attempts had slowed to a stop as he realized the message he was conveying was not the one he'd meant to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until tonight, of course. The worst of it was that Simon was trying to be sincere, to put into words all the ways kissing Patrick and Dianda tasted like freedom and fresh air and everything he'd been missing. It hadn't come out quite as sweet as that, twisting into something coy and almost bitter like the smell of rotting magic, and now he would do anything to take his words back and spare his spouses from his broken edges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick and Dianda, bless them both, did not look as if they wanted to be spared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick released Simon's chin, only to reach up and delicately touch his cheek - as if he was something to be cherished, and one day Simon would break with this gentleness. "How many ways did she hurt you," he breathed. "Please tell me you know that wasn't right. Please tell me you know those decisions weren't hers to make for you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I didn’t mean to worry you. It's okay," Simon whispered. He thought he could almost remember whispering that to himself, walking away from some awful reality he'd brought into being, the reassurance buoyed by the pressure building and building in his head. "It's... it's okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's <em>not</em>," Dianda bit from behind him, sitting down on the bed but still wound tight with furious tension. It spoke to the trust that had started building between him and her, that Simon didn't flinch at the sudden, harsh sound. "You don't have to pretend it is. You can call her a monster in front of us - we already know." There was more she wanted to say, Simon could already hear it brewing in her voice, but instead she reached out and took one of his hands. She squeezed, just once, hard - permission for him to hang on as tightly as he needed to. He squeezed back, the pressure grounding with calm confidence that Dianda was strong enough to take it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But pretending is something I do so well, Simon thought, and forced out a chuckle. "I love you both dearly," he said, and if his voice was a little hoarse and shook just a bit, he could hope they wouldn't notice. "And I am spoiled by your concern for me. It was not my intention to ruin the evening, however... shall we put this unpleasantness aside?" His smile aimed for charming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Stop that." Patrick's voice was flat, angry. The smile dropped from Simon's face immediately; it took so much to make Patrick angry, and he would have been tempted to apologize at once if he wasn't so sure that wasn't what his husband wanted. "She may have done that to you - allowed you to think your happiness and your consent were dependent on the whims of another - but I won't. I won't do that to you, and I won't be a part of you allowing anyone to do that to you, do you understand?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Might as well give in," Dianda murmured behind him, soft in a way she couldn't afford to be with many people. "You're outnumbered, dear."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon couldn't meet Patrick's eyes anymore, and he knew he was equally unprepared to see Dianda. He stared at the ground instead, a wry smile twisting his face into something he didn't recognize, because he hadn't actually seen it in such a long time. He'd been so far past looking back. "What have I done to deserve this kind of love?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Will you look at me?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a simple request, and for a moment Simon didn't think he could manage it. If he had to face the enormity of that love directly, he would shatter. But Patrick was patient, and Dianda was leaning into him and still holding his hand, and finally Simon looked back up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick's face was focused, composed… strong. Strong on Simon’s behalf, what a wonder - that someone like Patrick would have such a look of determination, like he was prepared to face down the monsters in Simon’s head. "You went looking for help, and she <em>used</em> you. She toyed with you, like a plaything for her amusement. You didn't... the things she had you do, the manipulation she put you through, were not the price of asking for help to <em>find your daughter</em>, Simon. They were cruelty, and that's all. That's <em>all</em>."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Simon could think of a single thing to say, Patrick pulled him in close. Dianda returned the gesture from behind him, and he was enveloped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to be okay. You don't have to convince us that you are. We'll be here either way, because you deserve love whether or not you think you do, and you have ours no matter what you think of yourself."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if Simon was going to break into pieces, he could think of no better place than wrapped safely in their arms.</span>
</p>
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